


The Prince, The King, The Emperor: The History of Jaehaerys "Jon" Targaryen.

by TheEmperorofaplanetos



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rhaegar Won, BAMF Jon Snow, Character Death, F/F, F/M, Gen, House Targaryen, Jon Snow Knows Something, Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Multi, Prince Jon Snow, Rhaegar Targaryen Lives, Slavery, Targaryen Madness, Underage Sex, Warg Jon Snow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-18 02:23:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21503686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEmperorofaplanetos/pseuds/TheEmperorofaplanetos
Summary: He was shaped from a young age. Hated for circumstances not under his control, shaped to be a tool of war, shown little love by those he calls family.But one day, they will find the blade they sharpened pressed against their necks, the one the scorned rising above them all upon a Dragons back and the bloody Dragonwolf, chained down by pain, misery and sadness, breaking it's shackles to roar and howl to the skies.
Relationships: Arianne Martell/Jon Snow, Arianne Martell/Tyene Sand, Ashara Dayne & Jon Snow, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Missandei/Jon Snow, Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand, Sansa Stark/Daenerys Targaryen, Shiera Seastar/Jon Snow, Tyene Sand/Jon Snow
Comments: 230
Kudos: 418





	1. In the thoughts of the Bloody wolf.

Jaehaerys "Jon" Targaryen sat quietly in his large tent, a small brazier a few feet in front him providing warmth to both him and the whole tent.

Here, in the dark quiet, with only the sounds of the thousands of men eating, patrolling, talking or sleeping in their own tents, Jon was left to his thoughts. Something a young man like him perhaps shouldn't have been allowed to do. Not with the life he had led.

As always, his thoughts turned to the circumstances of his birth, 25 years ago. The rebellion. The taking of his mother, Lyanna Stark by his father, then prince, now Emperor, Rhaegar Targaryen. The death of his Uncle Brandon by self strangulation as he tried to save one of Jon's grandfather's from being cooked alive by wildfire in his own armour on the orders of another.

None of the three would live long afterwards anyway. None would see the rebellions end or Jon's birth. Not even his own mother. Lyanna had died bringing him into this world. Died so he may live. Sometimes he wished the roles had been reversed and he had died at birth while she lived on.

Sometimes....

He had been brought back to Kingslanding as a baby, held in the arms of Arthur Dayne, The sword of the morning accompanied by the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Gerold Hightower and their fellow Kingsguard See Oswell Whent. They had found the banners of the Targaryen Dragon, Martell Sunspear, Tyrell Rose and Lannister Lion waving and flapping at key points of the city proudly, signifying their victory.

In the Throne Room, Rhaegar had sat triumphant yet purple eyes grave as he upon the large Iron Throne, his pregnant mother Queen Rhaella at his side, having been fetched quickly from Dragonstone and looking ready to burst or bring her child into the world at any moment. Besides him on his other side had been his wife, Elia Martell, clutching gently at their son and heir, Aegon.

Held at sword point and on their knees at the Thrones very steps were the 2 of the 4 rebel leaders. Eddard "Ned" Stark and Hoster Tully. Robert Baratheon had already lost his head at the Trident and Jon Arryn had already died from a spear to the chest thrown by a well aiming Martell spearman. They were all that were left.

Jon had never heard the fine details of the conversation that took place in the Throne Room. All he knew were that many loyalist lords had called for his uncle's and Hoster Tully's head that day. Hoster Tully had lost his while the new king had spared Eddard, something that was little comfort to him when he heard of his sister's death in the birthing bed.

It was said Eddard had wept in the privacy of the black cells for a week before they moved him to proper quarters and sent him back to Winterfell. Brinden Tully would hold the Riverlands until his nephew was ready to take the reigns as would Yohn Royce for a young Harold Hardyng of the Vale. Stannis Baratheon had been placed as the Lord paramount of the Stormlands after re-swearing his oaths of fealty and his youngest brother Renly was given to the Tyrells as a Hostage. All rebel kingdoms would see an increase in taxation and would be watched very closely by the crown henceforth.

The message was clear. Rebelling a second time would not be tolerated and put down harshly should it occur.

The King had been...pained by Lyanna's death. That Jon had not been the promised "Visenya" that his father had wanted had sealed the coffin in what would be a cold and distant relationship. Although acknowledged, his birth and connection to the Targaryen family proper had been hotly contested. Elia Martell, while not having anything against him, had demanded that he be placed at the very bottom wrung of succession, at the very end after Daenerys, Rhaegar's then newly born sister, the loyalists agreeing profoundly.

It would be no good to reward the child of a traitorous kingdom lest he get ideas after all.

As he grew up, he found that very few people truly cared for him. All he has for love was Queen mother Rhaella, his love for her so high that it was she he called "Mama" at his first words, his grandmother hugging him fiercely and calling him her "Little Dragon."

His father, King Rhaegar, had very little time for him as Jon had come to know. Officially and on word of rumours, this was due to how much Jon resembled Lyanna, the woman he loved. Over the years, Jon had simply understood that he simply cared little for the child who had ruined his prophecy and robbed him of his love at the same time. His siblings were a different story. Rhaenys went with how her mother was and barely acknowledged him unless necessary while his relationship with Aegon was even more distant than that between him and Rhaegar. Viserys viewed him as a mistake though was smart enough to never say such in front of Rhaella.

Truly, all he had ever had for 7 years in the Red Keep had been Rhaella, a few kinder servants and Daenerys. Sweet Daenerys.

On his 8th nameday, he had been informed that he would got to foster for 2 years with his mother's family in the north.

"You will conduct yourself as a prince should and bring no shame to the Targaryen name, am i understood, Jaehaerys?" Rhaegar had asked coldly. Jon had merely nodded and quietly played around with the cake on his plate. His father had never given him any affection in his life and it had hurt. It had hurt more when he had found the reason he was being sent away to foster.

Rhaegar, after much pressure, had decided to marry again, taking another second wife in the form of Cersei Lannister. The lady Lannister and future second had not wanted the spawn of the king's first "second" in her sight for the wedding.

Jon had hoped Elia, distant as she was to him, would humble the Lion Bitch when she came to the capital.

But then he had gone North. And he finally saw the blessing in disguise that waited there for him....for there he had found family, love, acceptance.

Arya.

Robb.

Sansa.

Rickon.

Bran.

Uncle Ned.

Aunt Catelyn.

It had been the best 2 years of his life that he would ever remember. That he would forever cherish. Running round Winterfell. Playing hide and seek with Arya, reading Bran and Rickon to sleep, showing Sansa to ride horses properly and practicing swordplay with Robb.

But two years went by quick and the king had summoned his son back. For finally, his father had found a use for him.

Two years without news from the capital nor many letters from Grandmother Rhaella had left Jon shocked to seeing and hearing about the changes at court when he came back. The place was a political slaughterhouse reminiscent of the days before the dance of Dragons. Martells and Lannisters, their servants and those loyal to each side filled the court and were at each other's throats, sometimes physically. Cersei was by then pregnant with her second child after bearing Rhaegar a firstborn son, Prince Joffrey.

Cersei had, luckily for him, simply looked at him with disdain and given him a warning look, as if telling him to remain where she couldn't see him and away from his siblings before the lioness had found herself catching the dangerous look Rhaella was throwing her unwanted second daughter-in-law and proceeded to cowering behind her wine goblet.

A week after he returned however, he found out why his father needed him back. Or at least, Ser Arthur Dayne had told him as he tossed him a wooden practice blade one day in the morning on the training grounds, See Barristan Selmy and the Lord Commander Gerold watching in the wings.

"Go on, pick it up." Ser Gerold said patiently and Jon did as he was told, holding the blade in his arm as he looked to the king's best friend and guard.

"The King has decided upon your future, young prince. As we speak, King Rhaegar is making great Changes to Westeros. Changes for the better. And you will be molded into an instrument of that change for both him and your brother when he ascends the throne." Ser Arthur said, gently spinning his own practice blade in his arms easily.

"As I have been informed, you will be trained in combat, command, diplomacy and many other subjects pertaining to war and the running of state thereafter. It is hoped that, should you excel, you will take over the dual positions of Master of war and Hand of the king when you are older. The King has thoughts of expansion, to increase Westerosi holdings and bring about a new Empire under the Targaryen Banner. As we speak, a royal army is in the making and you will be one of its leaders in the years to come. But for now, we will shape you into the man your royal father expects....STEEL YOURSELF!!" Arthur shouted the last words, rushing towards young Jon, not even letting him absorbs the new information he had been given.

And thus started Jon's brutal and lengthy training and education. Education that his father had all planned out for him without his knowledge and consent. But what did the king care? King Rhaegar Targaryen. He who would be known as Emperor due to the actions of his son.

Military training was taught by a combination of Randyll Tarly (who had specially called for the assignment after much discussion with Rhaegar) and Barristan Selmy.

His dueling and blade work continued with the Kingsguard as well as having a man from Essos who was a master of unarmed and ranged combat he learned in the summer isles to teach him.

With these came other lessons some of the mind, some of the body and some used both.

Literacy.

History of the known world.

Survival training.

Theft and subterfuge. (A subject he hated yet quickly mastered.)

Animal handling.

Diplomacy.

Healing.

Craftsmanship.

Jon was being readied in a way no known Targaryen prince had been made to be in the whole lifetime of the Targaryen family.

And yet....this is when Jon finally knew he was different from most. For Jon learned fast....faster than anyone could honestly say they could learn so many new things.

His military training left him with an insight into battlefield tactics of both Westeros and other peoples of the known world, both living and dead. He knew well now how to organise and maneuver any army he would ever take command of. When tested and given a group of 100 men once to quell a large mob of mercenaries causing chaos due to a merchant refusing to pay them, Randyll and Barristan had observed how he inspired courage and loyalty in the men. Jon was a natural born leader.

His dueling and mastery of not only the blade, but most weapons that he was given was a sight of legend. 5 months into it and the boy could actually hold off Ser Arthur Dayne, Barristan Selmy and Gerold Lannister at the same time, albeit not for long as he was still growing and did not have much strength. With a few years as he grew into his body, he would be a master weapon user, one who few would hope to beat. What astonished his trainers was how he quickly and instinctively knew how to master and use different weapons from glaives, spears, maces and Warhammers. He was once handed a Saber, used by most pirates and corsairs in the Stepstones and all Jon had done was take in its weight and change his stance to use the sword effectively just as he had done with other blades. It was astounding to say the least. By his second year of training, he could no doubt sell his services as a master class teacher of weapons and their uses.

Tono Zalaq was his teacher, a dark skinned man from the summer isles but moved to Essos. A man both skilled in unarmed combat and use of ranged weaponry. Bows, crossbows, slingshots. However, if the bruises he sported on his 7th week of training Jon were to be discussed then Jon had taken to fighting with his fists and body well and as for ranged combat, Jon was pretty much a marksman both on the ground and mounted.

And so this amazing rate of learning continued every single day for the next 5 years.

Literacy? Under Grand maester pycelle's tutelage (when he was sure the old maester wasn't sabotaging his work, no doubt under orders from Cersei.), he was soon completely fluent (written and spoken) in most languages from Westerosi common to the languages of Leng and Yi Ti as well as completely grasping High and low Valyrian. He also had a knack for forgery if he ever needed the skill.

History? Jon had near devoured the knowledge from the books and maps he was given, studying them with almost religious zeal. It was thanks to his studying the histories and journals of the Targaryens who came before him that he had told his grandmother Rhaella of an ancient vault hidden in Dragonstone where catches of Valyrian steel armour and swords as well as Long forgotten Dragon eggs had been hidden. When they had retrieved 5 Valyrian steel blades, 2 sets of Valyrian steel armour and 10 Dragon eggs from the vault, it was one of the few times Rhaegar had smiled in triumph and pride.

Not at him of course. No. He doubted his grandmother mentioned where knowledge of the vault had come from. And if she had, he doubted Rhaegar really cared. His father had made it clear what he was training to be. A tool of House Targaryen. An existence of penance for his "sins" of existing and being a "cause" of the rebellion.

Jon returned to his studies.

His survival training was easy. Or not as much but good enough. He had been left on a small island near the summer Isles with only 5 men set to guard him but not interfere. As they set up camp on the beach, Jon was given a dagger and set into the isle's jungle. He had learned to survive in harsh and unknown environments. Hunt the local wildlife as if he were a predator and escape view and capture from those sent to try and catch him from among the men who were to guard him. When two months were up, he was returned to Westeros without incident.

Animal handling was the subject he seemed to love most. He was supposed to just learn more on keeping his horse well fed and healthy while on campaign as well as add more to his mounted combat knowledge. But Jon seemed to have an almost psychic bond with any animal he took care of. From Ravens, horses, Dogs and one time, even a pack of wolves (that story had sent many a rumour emerging about him for weeks.)

Diplomacy? At age 15, given enough time, Jon could charm a whole court of nobles into Loving him (or ladies into his bed) with his skills of oration and his sharp wit. He could tell lie upon lie so convincingly that if not personally confirmed, he could get away with them. Getting a separate entity or party into a deal was child's play.

So on and on it went for 5 years, Jon's training and mastery in so short a time leading to much speculation and Gossip in court. And while some murmured how blessed he was to be taught all this, Jon could only scoff. He had never had much of a childhood. And the rest of it been taken away by his father's orders to make him into the perfect tool for House Targaryen to use.

It was on his seventeenth nameday that Jon was finally given his orders. Installed as lord Commander of the royal army (a force of 150,000 men and women), King Rhaegar announced the conquest of the Stepstones. A task Jon was given.

It was then the world began to witness the bloody and efficient horror that Jon Snow could be in war. Most wars take years. Jon's conquest of the Stepstones took 1 month. He cleared the land of pirates and executed them with impunity. Hangings and beheadings were a daily occurrence. Torture was something Jon saw to personally to gain information on any counter attacks or pirate insurrectionists. He put the pirates to the sword, down to the last man. Within 4 weeks, the Stepstones ran red with the blood of the Corsairs that had plagued them for so long.

And that was only the beginning...

With the Stepstones taken and with success and a sense of pride and nationality sweeping over Westeros from the Smallfolk to the High Lords, Lys, Myr and Tyrosh formed an an alliance to first demand the surrender of the isles to the triumvirate to split amongst themselves to alright war when their demands were refused.

Jon was despatched to humble the 3 cities with fire...and much shedding of blood. The triumvirate of free cities thought that it would win. Jaehaerys Targaryen proved them wrong.

Lys was the first to fall, those nobles who bowed to the new regime spared while the many who refused were put to the swords, their families sent to Westeros, being made hostages, wards and servants and their estates and properties given off to many a loyal lord. Myr came next, followed by Tyrosh. The triumvirate had been destroyed, humbled and conquered, their lands and the Disputed lands they once fought over now belonging to Westeros. Strong feelings of triumph swept throughout Westeros and large celebrations took place in the capital and in the loyalist kingdoms as Rhaegar Targaryen was crowned Emperor of Westeros and Essos as Elia and Cersei took the titles of Empress and their children Grand Princes and Princesses.

Loyal lords given land were now able to send second and third sons to Essos, giving them the estate's and titles awarded to them by the Emperor while loyal retainers of Rhaegar's were made heads of the 3 conquered cities.

All was not well however.

Volatis, Norvos, Qohor and the slaver cities of Yunkai, Mereen and Astapor had seen the writing on the wall. Rhaegar Targaryen had tasted victory and found he enjoyed it and wanted more. Even but a month after conquering the Triumvirate, already the imperial crown and Westeros were seeing the effects of increased trade and taxes. The crowns coffers were overflowing as were those of the lords who had been gifted titles, lands and estates in Essos's conquered lands.

Volatis, Norvos, Qohor, Yunkai, Mereen and Astapor formed a military alliance. Together, they fielded a force of 350,000 soldiers, ready to destroy the fledgling empire. Compared to them, Jon had only 200,000 fighting ready soldiers.

For others, it would have been a massacre. For Jon, all he had known was that if his hands had been dripping blood by the wars beginning, he would be bathing in oceans of it by the end.

City by city, Jon faced the Empire's enemies, conquering as he went. He killed on the battlefield, sent assassins to end key members of the cities against them and put many a noble man and woman to the sword to prove his point and the Empire's as well. The new Empire was here to stay and none would dare say otherwise.

Bloody White wolf.

Dragon of the red Dawn.

King of the Blood Oceans.

Death's Herald.

These were the few names Jon's reputation and action had given him and he took it all in silence, a forged tool of violence and conquest. Bitter he grew, within himself. Rage, pain and sorrow for all the lives he had taken. But he was silent as he sought to increase his family's reach and power as a proper "tool". 

Volantis fell to him and the royal imperial army. As did Norvos, Qohor and the slaver cities. He had freed the slaves, killed the slaving nobles to a man and set up a council of former slaves to collect taxes and see to the Emperor's will. 

4 years. By his 25th nameday, Jon had conquered more lands than Aegon the conqueror had dreamt of. His blade had killed thousands on the battlefield and his hands had brought low some of the greatest people's in the known world. 

Now he sat here, after completing all this work, his soul screaming in despair as he heard his soldiers celebrate their latest and final victory over Mereen, his eyes weary and his thoughts clouded. He had not seen Westeros since the conquest of the Stepstones. Hadn't been home for so long. If he could call the Red keep home anyway.

He had heard the capital had been demolished and rebuilt from the ground up. Kingslanding being remodeled to show its new standing as capital of Westerosi Empire.

"I built this. All of this. Not Aegon. Not my father. Me. They will tell stories of how I led the birth of a new Empire...of how I freed slaves and destroyed slavers and put them and all they held dear to the blade...and for what? A father who wished for a "Visenya", a daughter, to fullfill some vague prophecy? A people who at best call my birth a mistake and at worst wish me exile or death? A family where only two hold me dear and the rest wish I would stay a distant memory? Is this all I've achieved?" Jon whispered into the darkness.

Silence was his answer.

Or it was....until he felt warm, soft arms wrap around his back and soft lips kiss the side of his face.

"You promised you would stop brooding, love. And yet here I find you breaking your promise." A sensual voice whispered in his ear as he scoffed lightly. "I've never promised you anything, Sorceress. Shouldn't you be seeing to the treasury or have you come to torment me once more....Shiera?"

Shiera Seastar could only grin and moved from behind him to where he could see her in all her beauty. Jon's tired eyes looked to the woman before him, mentally acknowledging why so many men had fought for her favour so many years ago.

Before him was the beauty and perfection of the noble ladies of Old Valyria come again. Shiera Seastar, the very same bastard daughter of Aegon the Unworthy, had lived for all these years, trapped and used by the three triarchs of Volantis when she had left Westeros for Essos years ago. Through the teachings of her mother, Serenei of Lys, she had become a powerful Sorceress, one of the most powerful in the known world as well as a powerful seer. The triarchs of years long past had thus captured her and used her under threat of death to curse their rivals and enemies with her spells and use her seer abilities to tell them the best choices to make in the future.

Her magical bloodline from her mother, strengthened even more by Aegon the Unworthy's Targaryen Dragon rider bloodline had made her seemingly ageless and immortal, her body and looks having seemingly frozen on her 27th nameday, no diseases or poisons able to kill her though death from a blade would be enough. Thus she had thought herself trapped in the magically warded dungeons of Volantis till the very end of time....until Jon and the imperial army had arrived and he had released her from the Dungeons after beheading the three triarchs.

If Jon had found her story incredulous, he not said so. If she had been expecting him to try and force her to join him, she was to be disappointed. He had merely given her 3 large chests of gold dragons, a bodyguard of 100 men and told her to go where she pleased. That had been enough for her.

Apparently, where she pleased was everywhere Jaehaerys went. A few weeks of following him and his army on their conquest campaign trail until he finally relented and made her head of the loot and treasury captured from the defeated cities. She was also quite skilled in not leaving Jon alone and trying to make him bed her.

Jon had hardly been tempted, beauty though she was. The loose, silk soft dress that she wore showed off every bit of her still young and curvaceous body, leaving enough room to her top to show off her large and firm breasts. Her hair was long, thick and lustrous, a silver gold mane reaching to then end of her back. Her face was that of a sinful temptress at one point and a caring lover the next, skin pale and unblemished and soft, a warm rosy glow to her cheeks and her full, pouty lips painted a bright red while her eyes shined in the firelight. One sapphire blue and another that of bewitching emerald. Both held experience, understanding, lust and a hint of the deep power she possessed.

"And when have I tormented you, great prince? I did promise you eternal fealty did I not? You saved me from years of magical slavery. I share the same gratitude as most of the freed slaves of Mereen feel towards you. Did I not help you in the last 3 battles against the slavers? Have I not proven my loyalty, hmm?" She asked, moving to sit upon his lap without protest, her soft, firm ass settling upon his groin.

Jon sighed.

She had indeed done so. Apart from healing many of his soldiers, Shiera had also caused mass panic and confusion on the final defenders of Mereen, making realistic illusions of a demon army attacking the 60,000 strong army of slavers sons while Jon and his men put them to the sword. She had earned his respect for that.

"I told you such oaths were meaningless. Go and swear yourself back to your family, to the Emperor if you must. I'm sure they will gladly take you in with all the knowledge and power you hold. Or perhaps go look for bloodraven across the wall. From what I hear, the black brothers still say he lives. Perhaps he is like you and..."

Shiera silenced him with a gentle finger to his lips.

"One, I do not go looking for former lovers who sacrificed themselves, all they are and all they loved for power. If the one eyed idiot wished to become a sexless tree, let him. His fate is his own."

Jon frowned slightly at her words. A tree...? What in...?!?!

"Second, aren't you family Jaehaerys? Our ages may be far between but I'm sure I'm your aunt, give or take a few hundred years. Shouldn't I stay with my nephew and be a comfort to him?" She asked, a smirk on her face as she began to grind her ass upon him.

Jon was not impressed.

"We are family." He stated plainly, only for Shiera to move swiftly forward and plant her lips upon his, her tongue probing through his closed lips to wrestle with his tongue, her hands holding strong to his curly dark hair. It took a minute before she broke their kiss, the surprise clear on his face as she gently stroked his face.

"We are Targaryens, the blood of old Valyria is strong in us. In you and me. You are even beyond that, something more. Blood if the first men and blood of old Valyria. A potent, powerful mix. Powerful enough to perhaps even ride a dragon.."

Jon was startled at her words. 

"There are no more Dragons." He said but Shiera only smiled, a thing filled with triumph and knowledge. "Only because there were none worthy to master them. To bond with them. But you and i...you and i are just what they need to return."

Jon's eyes had begun to fill with wonder at her words. The thought appealed to him. To fly and leave everything behind....

His visions broke. "The Emperor would.." he began, only to silenced by Shiera's laughter. "Do not call a witless worm an emperor, Jaehaerys. A man who blames others for his misfortune and who blames the world and others for his lack of achieving his foolish and mad goals. Your father could not achieve what you have, not in a million lifetimes. Do not defend him. That man was never your father. And once we have dragons, we will carve out our own Empire, away from those who despise you." She said, her last words a tender caress to his soul.

Her eyes looked into his, seeing them flash from cold grey to magical violet in the firelight. "But let us not talk of the future yet, allow me to please my prince first, allow your servant to show her humility." She whispered into his ear. Her lips once more sought his as they kissed, this time Jon holding onto her tightly as he returned their embrace. When they broke apart, her lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed and her eyes filled with lust.

She moved from his lap, onto her knees on the straw carpet on the ground before him. The heat of the nearby brazier not disturbing her at all as she pulled down his breeches, looking on with lust and want as his thick cock stood out, erect and ready, it's length throbbing in lust.

"Oh yes." She breathed. "I'm sure you'll give my womb plenty of strong heirs. But first..."

Shiera's red painted lips puckered, kissing the very tip of it, coming away with a trail of his precum on her plump, soft lips and a shining red ring upon his tip from her kiss. Shiera licked her lips of his pre-seed, tasting his gift and finding she enjoyed it. Enjoyed the magical fire and warmth that passed through her as she swallowed. She moved below, approaching his balls, feeling the seed within and smelling the potent musk of a her man, her nephew, her prince.

With a sigh of delight, she puckered her soft lips once more and gave her prince's large, seed filled balls a suckling kiss apiece, pulling each seed filled orb into her warm mouth and using her tongue to bathe them in her hot spit before releasing the now wet balls from her mouth and giving each a deep, sensual kiss, leaving a wet red, puckered ring, marking her prince as hers.

Jon could only groan in his seat, his hands gripping hard upon the seat rests as Shiera serviced him.

But she was done with her beginning. It was now her chance. Her full, luscious red lips closing around his aching and throbbing cock as she slowly worked more and more of his hard and thick shaft into her soft and wet mouth. She did not stop even once, claiming more and more of his thick length until her face was pressed at the base of his groin, her strong throat muscles expertly massaging his cock as she looked up at him with her shining, his gaze only on ger. Her look was of pride, lust and triumph, all in one as she sucked him off.

Jon's groans filled the tent as she pleasured him and soon Shiera had her prize. With a groan of need, Jon's cock pulsed and pulsed and his balls shook as he came. No words had to be spoken as Shiera held the pulsing sceptre in her mouth, feeling each pulse of his cock send her more and more of his precious seed. As he pulled from her warm mouth, his cock drenched in hot spit and cum, Shiera swallowed down his seed and mewled as orgasm struck her at the power and magic within his seed flowed through her. Unknown to him, Jon very being was of magic and power, his blood a catalyst for miracles and his seed...it would never be in doubt than any progeny he sired would control magic on a great scale, just as she could.

Her thighs were drenched as she came down from her orgasm and saw Jon removing his light armour and doublet, kicking away his breeches. She moved to her feet, letting her silk garments fall to the floor, allowing Jaehaerys to see her body in full, watching his eyes fill with lust and want.

"I believe I won't be sleeping in a separate tent from now on." She whispered, moving towards him. Jon nodded and took her up in his arms, closing the tent flaps as he moved them towards his bed.

The rest of the night would find the tent being filled with Shiera's loud cries and moans of pleasure and the sound of flesh meeting flesh as those of the Dragon blood sated their lust.

######################################

Jon woke was up early once more, his head clearer and his soul a bit rested while whatever roaring Dragon and howling wolf that had encouraged him to slake his lusts on Shiera had quietened down..for now.

Shiera was deep asleep, a satisfied smile on the Sorceress's lips as her sweaty and naked body lay on the bed, her cunt leaking a steady flow of Jon's thick, virile seed to the sweat drenched sheets. It would be a miracle if she wasn't with child at that moment, a thought that appealed to Jon very much, to his surprise.

His thoughts were broken as a messenger rushed in to his tent and knelt In front of him. "A raven from the capital. It bears the Emperor's seal, Commander." He said urgently as Jon quickly took it, waiting for the messenger to leave before unfurling the scroll and reading it. When he finished, he sighed and moved towards his bed, Shiera opening her eyes and smiling lustfully at him.

"And what has my prince so down after such a passionate night, hmm?" She asked.

Jon actually had a small smile on his lips at the reminder and Shiera felt happiness and triumph feel her at it. He looked even more handsome when he did so. His smile ended as he handed her the letter, a grimace on his face as he explained.

"The imperial army and it's commander have been recalled to the capital. The age of conquest has come to an end it seems. The Emperor has been advised by the imperial council to do so lest we are spread too thin." He said, weariness in his voice as she finished reading the scroll, disgust apparent on her face as she threw the scroll away after reading the last words at its end.

"It is also to celebrate Aegon's 26th nameday and his official rise to Heir apparent and be given the title "Protector of the Empire" All officials, Lords and Lords Paramount are to be present to swear fealty." Shiera rolled her eyes. Such frivolous activity and celebration, all for a young man who had done nothing but be sheltered by his younger brother from the Empire's bloody expansion.

Jon was no Bloodraven and while she doubted he hated Aegon, she very well knew there was no loving connection there either.

She was surprised as Jon brought her closer to him, meeting her lips to his in a passionate kiss as he began to remove his clothes once more, spreading her legs wide and eliciting a moan of need and want as he moved his cock within her warm, welcoming cunt.

"It seems we're going home but I'll take all the pleasure I can right here before we walk into that vipers nest." He murmured in her ear as she wrapped her legs around him and brought him closer to her.


	2. Thoughts of the King's sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing as many people want this to continue, I will. Though slower updates a go on from here.

"A problem, Ser Arthur?"

The voice of Queen mother Rhaella Jolted the Sword of the morning from his thoughts. Arthur Dayne had been on guard duty at the king's door that night and having nothing else to do, had decided to get lost in his memories, most being of the king's second son who was set to return soon from his foreign campaign of conquest. It was no surprise Rhaella had been able to move next to him without his notice as his thoughts gravitated towards the king's second son. The silence of the Red keep at night hadn't helped.

Queen Rhaella, thanks to her valyrian Heritage, still held much of her beauty. Her long, silver gold hair was made up in an intricate braided bun and her face was still a vision of beauty, even after all these years with the mad king as her husband and facing a rebellion.

"No, of course not your Grace. I was just....." He began.

"Counting your sins?" Her words cut him off and left him quiet as the truth of what she said hit him like a runaway cart.

"I...that is to say..."

Rhaella was quiet and hummed a small tune under her breath as he tried to steady his thoughts.

"Don't be ashamed of yourself, Oh sword of the morning. By the end of it all, they'll be plenty of people in the Red keep who will answer for their sins....I don't think you'll be alone in that. No, you and Kingsguard are more dogs than knights after all." She said tiredly, walking away down the hall before he could reply. Of he even wanted to reply.

The Queen mother was of course right. There was no lie in anything she had said. Even her words of the Kingsguard were true. The rest of his brothers could keep claiming oaths and orders but he was no fool. The men if the Kingsguard had lost their honour as knights long ago. For wasn't it they who had stoically kept outside as Aerys raped and hurt her? They who stood and watched as he burnt innocent men and women to death with wildfire? And he, the so called sword of the morning, who kept quiet to the cries of a northern lady as she demanded Rhaegar let her go home to her family.

Yes, Arthur Dayne had much to answer for.

Truthfully, he did not know where it all went wrong. As young men and new friends, Arthur and Rhaegar had talked long into the night if how they could make Westeros a better place. How Arthur would be Rhaegar's shield as he helped bring the realm to rights from his mad father's Tyranny and insanity.

But then Rhaegar had slipped into his own brand of madness when deep in his studies and books, he had found that damnable prophecy. That prophecy that would soon be all the thought of, all that drove him.

"It is my children Arthur. The three heads of the Dragon must refer to my children. Aegon would be as the conqueror. But he must have Have a Rhaenys and a Visenya to complete the prophecy. One of fire and one of ice." Rhaegar had told him in private, eyes shining as he reverently held the book where the prophecy was written.

It was the first time he ever questioned if the Targaryen madness had found his friend.

Rhaegar, he concluded however, wasn't as far gone as his father. Sure, he spent days researching his thrice damned prophecy but he stilled did care for the realm and his family. He still comforted and defended his mother when his father had his way with her. He still went to Fleabottom and handed alms to the poor and he still made time for Rhaenys and baby Aegon, also trying to keep an amiable and respectful relationship with Elia.

That, of course, ended when Rhaegar had saw fit to tell his first wife about the prophecy and want he thought it meant for him. And what he needed to do. He never saw Elia as angry as she was that day. And that was saying something, considering the delicate lady she was. She had shouted Rhaegar out of their rooms and told him to never approach her or their children with such nonsense ever again.

Of course while he never did approach her with such nonsense again, he did go ahead and commit to it. The tourney at Harrenhall had shown as much. He was quite sure Elia would have stabbed Rhaegar in the groin if he dared approach her after that whole stunt. The realm had gossiped for weeks while Rhaegar used every bit of guile and charm to woo Lyanna Stark to him.

Her performance as the knight of the laughing tree had been the final act needed apparently for Rhaegar to make his decision that Lyanna would be his second Queen and the mother of his Visenya.

Arthur would have kicked his friend off his horse and clubbed Rhaegar atop his head if he wasn't sure every Dornish man and woman at the tourney wouldn't have done worse. That and Robert Baratheon had seemed ready to smash Rhaegar's head in.

But the rebellion had come and gone and they were still here. Baratheon was dead. Jon Arryn, Hoster Tully. The only surviving rebel lord was Eddard Stark and the man had see his whole family decimated, his only brother swearing the oaths of a black brother of Nights watch. If anyone had suffered in this war, it was him and the North.

And then came Jaehaerys or Jon as princess Daenerys and Queen mother Rhaella called him fondly. The son who had put a stop to Rhaegar's plans. The one who had broken his thoughts of prophecy and fulfillment.

"A GIRL ARTHUR!! IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A GIRL!!!" Rhaegar had raged in the privacy of his solar, slamming his fists on his wooden table, throwing his books and furniture here and there.

He could somehow understand his pain, even if he did not care for it. The rebellion might have ended in their victory (by a swords edge at that) but Rhaegar had done it all to take up the throne early, remove his father from power and ready the realm for the children of prophecy. Now, his prophecy was in shambles, the Northern lady he took was dead by child birth and thus unable to give him a daughter and he had Tywin Lannister breathing down his back to take his daughter as his second wife. Which he had eventually done.

Rhaegar had gone on to shun his second son. He barely talked or acknowledged Jaehaerys at all and when he did, it was to reprimand him. Many had thrown blame of the rebellion on the Young man, seeing as his mother was dead and wasn't there to shield him. All he had were princess Daenerys and Queen Rhaella to defend and love him as those in the Red keep hated him at worst and ignored him at best. It had been sickening to watch and sickening once the boy had been brought back from his fostering by his uncle at Winterfell and he had been given his orders by Rhaegar.

"Make him a weapon. Make him a tool." He had said. And Arthur, without question, like a good dog (friend) had done as ordered.

Every day, he had trained Jon to the ground, barely giving him time to eat or drink until he was covered in bruises and hurts and Queen Rhaella was glaring at him causing him to fear for his life. But he would do as his king had commanded and trained Jon on and on with ser Barristan and Gerold Hightower. Trained him to use every weapon in hand to kill his enemy, to be a demon on the battlefield and a tool for House Targaryen under king Rhaegar and Aegon to use.

And so soon had the results come to be seen. How they heard he and his army swept across Essos, conquering and Killing everywhere they went.

Soon, he would return to Westeros and Kingslanding. Return to a place he no doubt never wanted to return to and a place where most only sought to use him.

Arthur Dayne did not know what would happen when Prince Jaehaerys did return but he knew one thing.

For all he had done and failed to do for that boy, his mother and Grandmother, there was a special spot for him reserved in the seven Hells...

To be continued....

**Author's Note:**

> Thought I'd try bringing in a plot based story with some deep, deep smut in. First chapter. Not such an expert on lore, war and much of all the deep things people will want but I'll take help and suggestions as we go on. Hope you like it.


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